


My Heart Has Made its Mind Up

by Somedeepmystery



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Roommates, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: Illya has been in love with Gaby for eight long years but he isn't about to mess with the status quo and end up losing her altogether. Gaby herself may have other plans.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo & Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller
Comments: 25
Kudos: 131





	My Heart Has Made its Mind Up

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Valentine” by Wendy Cope - which many of you know was performed by Armie Hammer on poetryinthewildnyc (instagram) I was struggling for a title for this and then they posted a second version of that poem and I was like -"AhHA!"
> 
> I started writing this awhile ago, then (as will be obvious when you read it) tried to have it ready at Christmas but failed. The new year and all the stuff it brought with it nearly sapped my muse but I finally finished this little bit of fluff and smut and hopefully it won't be the last. 
> 
> Thank to TL for all her help and and encouragement, you are the person keeping me going at this point my dear. Thank you So Much. 
> 
> That all said, this is far from perfect but hopefully it's a little fun. Hope you are all staying as safe and well as possible. <3

ILLYA 

Illya Kuryakin looked at the time and sighed with an air of relief. Leaning back in his chair, he maneuvered his mouse to shut down his workstation computer. 

_Thank God it is Friday._

His phone vibrated in its dock and he smiled to himself when he saw the face that appeared on the screen. Gaby. She had been his friend now for close to eight years and his roommate for the last three. He also had a not-so-minor crush on her. Picking up the phone, he tapped the accept button as he stood.

“Hello,” he answered, one hand winding his scarf around his neck.

“Hey, are you coming home or do you have plans tonight?”

“I was coming home. Why?”

There was water running in the background and it shut off, leaving silence for a moment. “No hot date?”

The question made him pause in his actions, his pulse giving a little kick. He gave a little scoff to keep up appearances. “Who would I date?”

“You might have met someone.” He could almost hear the little shrug she liked to give. 

“I haven’t met anyone.” _Just you._ “I am coming home. Do you need me to pick something up from the market?”

“No, I’m um–” She sounded distracted and he could imagine her in the kitchen trying to juggle multiple things as they spoke. “I’m making schnitzel and wanted to know if I should make enough for you.”

His eyes widened. “Yes, please do.”

“No cracks about my cooking?”

“Why would I joke about your cooking? You make very good schnitzel.”

“Only schnitzel?”

He was pulling on his coat and trying to keep the phone against his ear with his shoulder. “You only care about being good at schnitzel.”

A huff. “What does that mean?”

He dropped his shoulders and caught the phone in his free hand. Coat half on, bag open on the desk, he frowned at empty space, focused on her voice. “What is this about?”

There was silence, but when she answered it was with a casual tone. “Nothing, why would you ask that?” 

“You are only insecure like this when something is bothering you, so, what is bothering you?”

Gaby sighed out a laugh. “ _You_ ,” she said, “Knowing me so well. It _bothers me_.”

“Very funny.” He assumed it was her most recent ex that had put this thought in her head. The guy had begun commenting on what he had considered Gaby’s lack of “womanly art” at the end. Which, Illya was pretty sure, was why it became _the end_. Gaby did not put up with that kind of nonsense. 

“You excel at whatever you decide to excel at. If you wanted to be a champion chef, then all the other chefs would be doomed just as every mechanic in the city is doomed.”

She chuckled, and he tried to ignore how the natural rasp of her voice affected him. “You are very good for my ego.”

He hummed. “Well, I must earn my keep.”

Another pause. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice was affectionate but switched back to casual before he had a chance to think anything of it. “Maybe you should grab some lettuce. Ours is... brown.”

He nodded, though she couldn’t see him. “Lettuce. Understood.”

“See you soon. Stay warm.”

Illya tugged his coat on the rest of the way and smiled into the phone. “See you soon.”

The call ended, and he finished packing his bag before swinging it over his shoulder and hurrying out the door. His job as a data entry clerk paid the bills, but it was hardly stimulating. He was glad to leave it behind and go home where he could do his own work. 

And spend time with Gaby. 

Snow was falling as he stepped out into the early evening air and he adjusted his scarf to block some of the cold crawling down the back of his neck. He could hear the bus rumbling down the street so he hurried the quarter of a block to the closest stop, nodding at several of his coworkers who were already waiting. 

“Hi, Illya,” someone called. He nodded to them but stayed behind the rest of the group until the bus came to a stop with a squeak of brakes and the hiss from the shocks.

Illya chose a spot near the back, managing to get one by the window. He dropped into his seat and adjusted his things so he could sit comfortably but still keep track of them. His stop was one of the last so he would be there awhile.

Soon, the bus started on its way again, rocking back and forth as it reentered the city traffic. Illya’s phone bleeped from within his pocket and he pulled it out to check the screen. The notification was from his MyStories app and, knowing he only followed two people in that app, he tapped to open it. 

The sound of Gaby’s voice and the image of a piece of pork cutlet on a familiar kitchen counter greeted him. “How to make schnitzel,” her disembodied voice said. A large meat mallet appeared from off screen. “Take this and pretend that this pork cutlet is your ex.” She then began to pound the cutlet with force and Illya hummed a quiet laugh as the video finished. He turned off the screen and settled the device in his lap, held in his hand, as he looked out the window.

So, she wasn’t _that_ hung up on the guy she had dumped. If she was, she wouldn’t have made this kind of video. He had known her long enough to understand that when something was really important, she kept it close, put up a front, and tried to deflect by whatever means at her disposal. It was a relief to know she wasn’t hurting over the breakup. Seeing her in pain was actually _worse_ than seeing her with other guys. 

_That’s only because you always know it’s not that serious,_ he said to himself. He wanted to think it wasn’t true, that he cared about her happiness more than he cared about his own but it was a daunting idea. Someday she would find a guy she wanted to keep. What was he going to do then?

He took a deep breath and sighed. Stay her friend, he supposed, like he had for the last eight years. 

They had met in college through some random whim of fate. He and Gaby, along with their friend Napoleon Solo, formed a friendship that had lasted through all the changes life had thrown at them, including the most recent one–Solo getting a job in London and moving across the Atlantic. It was some form of irony that the one American-born member of their group was the one to leave while he, (born in Russia,) and Gaby, (born in Germany) were making their home here. 

As much as he missed the Cowboy, he was glad it had been him and _not_ Gaby to move away. Solo always made sure to keep up with them–the only reason Illya had the MyStories app at all was to follow him–so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but his heart twisted at the thought of Gaby ever being that far away. 

He was such a fool. 

Not that there had been much hope for anything else. He had fallen in love with her about five minutes after he’d met her. Not the profound love he felt for her now, but it had been more than sexual from the start. She was strong, she was... a lot of things... There was a fire inside her and a genuine kindness that people rarely saw. She’d had a boyfriend when they met. Eventually she'd dumped him but then Illya had been dating someone, and so it went. By the time either of them were single simultaneously, their relationship had been cemented as friends and he didn’t want to lose that–he didn’t want to lose _her—_ so he had kept the status quo. 

They had moved in together three years ago when Solo had gotten the job in London. Illya couldn't afford their apartment on his own and Gaby’s lease had been up. To his great relief, (and secret delight,) it had been working out. They got along well, their living habits not horribly incompatible. He woke up early; she stayed up late, but they had learned to adjust their ways to make space for each other.

And he loved having her there. Absurdly loved seeing her things on the bathroom counter with his. He also enjoyed intimidating the men she dated the first time they came over, making sure they understood she was not a woman they could mess with without consequences. 

Not that she needed _him_ for that. The last guy who had tried to cross a line ended up with his car dismantled and sold off for parts. The _Мудак_ had suspected Gaby, of course, considering she was an expert mechanic who owned a garage on the westside, but the cops hadn’t been able to find a single shred of evidence. The asshole had been forced to concede and Gaby had donated the money she made to the women's shelter. 

Illya closed his eyes as the bus rumbled beneath him. He really was stupid in love with her. 

They had both continued dating other people, but lately Illya had lost a taste for it. He had come to accept that he was not going to get over Gaby and it wasn’t fair to any woman he tried to have a relationship with. His last girlfriend had seen through him, eventually. She’d been angry and bitter. He didn’t want to go through that again.

It had been over six months. Illya had avoided the dating pool since. 

His neighborhood was approaching, so Illya pressed the button to request the stop. His coworkers had long departed and new people had taken their places, so there was no one to acknowledge as he made his way to the exit door. Outside, the temperature had dropped another few degrees, so he adjusted his scarf, then pulled his bag tight over his shoulder and hurried forward, pushing through the thick, hanging plastic that worked to protect the market from the frigid weather. 

The woman who ran the shop greeted him immediately. She recognized him, since he and Gaby were frequent customers, and came over with the offer of a pear sample for him to try. He accepted shyly. It was cold and sweet, bursting bright with flavor on his tongue. It was good; he told her so, then explained he was looking for salad ingredients. Laughing, she waved toward the back. He already knew where to find what he needed: lettuce, romaine and radicchio, some spinach, carrots and green onions. He grabbed a long loaf of French bread as well and, at the last moment, two of the winter pears he had sampled. The kid at the counter wrapped the pears up in festive paper and put them in the bag with everything else. Illya paid and went on his way. 

Their building was one block behind the market so he cut through the alley which shielded him somewhat from the icy wind that was beating down on him. It was definitely time to switch out his wool peacoat for something heavier. 

Reaching the front of their building, he paused to look up at the third-story window. The light was on; the curtain shifted aside and Gaby appeared there. When she saw him, her face lit up with a smile and she gave a brief wave. The sight made his heart pound hard against his ribcage. She was so beautiful and he knew if he was closer, he would be able to see the dimple that broke out on her cheek when she grinned like that. 

_She’s happy to see me._

The thought filled him with a warmth touched by melancholy and caution. This was why he couldn’t mess around. Whatever he had to endure was worth it if Gaby was _always_ happy to see him. He could never handle it if things were to become awkward, if instead of smiling at the sight of him she turned away. That's why he couldn’t try to change things between them. Why he needed to preserve the relationship exactly as it was. It was the only sure way to keep her in his life for as long as possible. 

He hunched a little further down into his coat and hurried in through the front door of the building. Drops of melted snow were clinging to his hair and eyelashes when he entered the apartment a few moments later, and Gaby laughed as she brushed some of it off and took the shopping bags from his arms. 

“Time to switch to the parka, I think,” she told him. “It will only get colder from here on out.”

“I know,” he answered, hanging up his coat and setting down his work bag.

A ‘meow’ from below drew his attention, and he glanced down to see his cat, Mishka, regarding is wet boots with caution. He chuckled at the feline then slid the boots off, setting them in a tray by the door before stepping onto the carpet and kneeling down to give him a quick greeting. Mishka pushed up into his palm and Illya smiled. “It is good to see you too.”

Standing up, he gave his arms a rub through the cable-knit sweater he wore, trying to warm up, and moved into the small kitchen where Gaby had returned to preparing their meal. The apartment was dim, lights from the Christmas tree and over the mantle giving most of the light. The savory smells of dinner and the citrus spiced scent of _Glühwein,_ filled the air _._ Gaby was already handing him a mug. It was warm in his palms and he thanked her as he took a sip. The heat, the spice, the alcohol all worked to ease the chill, and he relaxed his shoulders as he watched her empty the bag he had brought. 

“Bread, good call,” she said, setting it aside. She pulled out one of the pears and turned to him in question.

“Winter pears,” he explained with a shrug. “For dessert.”

She made an approving expression and set them both aside before pulling down a large bowl. Illya moved forward and held his hand out to her. “I’ll make the salad,” he offered. “You did everything else.”

She hesitated, then handed the bowl to him, her eyes glancing over him in a way he couldn't decipher. “I don't mind,” she said. “It’s not like you keep me slaving away in the kitchen every night.”

“As if I could,” he retorted. She laughed and started on some packaged egg noodles to go with the rest of their meal. He teased her about not making _Spätzle_ from scratch and she hip checked him for his efforts. It went on this way until dinner was ready, and they moved to set the table.

Gaby struck a match and Illya noticed the candle in the middle of the table for the first time. He glanced at Gaby with a questioning frown and she gave a little shrug. “Just a little atmosphere,” she offeredShe untied her utilitarian apron and Illya realized she had dressed up, catching a sight of dark jeans that hugged the curve of her ass before she set down her plate and took a seat.

Illya slid out his chair and sat across from her, trying not to spend too much time watching the golden light play over her face. She had never set out candles at dinner before, but then it was Christmas and Gaby, true to her German roots and contrary to her usually no-fuss tendencies, always went all out at Christmas.

Not wanting to think more of it than he knew was wise, he picked up his utensils and cut into his entrée. “It is pleasant.”

Gaby tilted her head back and forth, also cutting into her meat. “It’s kind of like a date.”

He nearly choked on his bite of food. A little huff of air escaped his nose, which he hoped sounded like a laugh, and he managed to give her a smirk. “Oh, I see, I am the replacement for your usual Friday night company.”

Gaby lifted her eyes, and he thought he saw a flash of— _something_ —cross her face. She cleared her throat. “Not at all, I just—I thought it would be nice.” She took a very big drink of her wine. “So how was your day?”

“Tedious but I hit my goals.” He did a quick survey of her countenance. She seemed troubled. He really hoped it wasn’t the ex-boyfriend. “What about you, what happened with the Opel?”

“Nice try.” She gave him a knowing look. “You hate your job. You need a better one.” He made a noncommittal sound and stuffed another piece of the schnitzel in his mouth. “And the Opel is _fine_ , I found the part I needed, and she runs like a dream but, of course, now the guy thinks we shouldn’t be paid for the work.”

Illya set his fork down with a scowl. “You are kidding.”

“Not at all.”

Their conversation carried on in this vein, back and forth, discussing their day as they did many nights. It was comfortable, but Illya couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Gaby had things on her mind that she wasn’t sharing. When they had finished their food, he quickly collected the dishes before she could and carried them to the sink. 

“You cooked, so I clean,” he reminded her.

“Well, I will help anyway,” she told him, grabbing a towel to dry. He was certainly not going to object to her company.

The conversation moved to lighter subjects, and the work went quickly. When they had finished, Illya took the wet towel from her and hung it up. Gaby smiled up at him and he wanted to think of something to say, some way to extend this moment without it seeming contrived, but his mind only came up with bad ideas. It was useless; he needed to take a shower and get some work done on the new app he was creating. If this one was as successful as the last one, he might have enough leeway to do what Gaby kept harassing him to do and get another job. He didn’t like to complain when there were plenty of people out there with no job at all, but Gaby was right—he really did hate data entry. 

With a last longing look, which he glanced off Gaby and diverted to the kitchen instead, he turned to leave and felt something brush the top of his head. Jerking back, he bumped into Gaby as his hand flew up to protect his head. “What was that?” His scan of the ceiling revealed a sprig of greenery with white berries hanging just inside the opening to the living room. Was that...?

Gaby stepped around him, also looking up at the offending greenery. “Oh, that’s mistletoe. I guess I didn’t put it high enough.”

His heart was beating a little too hard. He took a deep breath as his hand dropped back to his side. There was mistletoe and Gaby was now standing directly underneath of it. “When did it get there?” he asked flatly, trying to keep the sudden bout of breathlessness out of his voice. 

“Since I decorated.” 

Illya’s brows drew together. “It was not there before.” And if it had been, why? Why had she decorated with mistletoe? It wasn’t like they were having a party.

“Sure it was, you just—” she shrugged “—didn’t see it.”

He opened his mouth to respond but had nothing to say. He stared at that bit of green, then down at Gaby. She was wearing a sweater he didn’t recognize, a red one; it looked new and soft. The way the material settled over her body flattered every aspect of her shape. The necklace Solo had given her last Christmas rested against her tawny skin, drawing the eye down the v-neckline to where the knit fabric lightly hugged her small breasts. He forced himself not to linger there. The lights played warm and inviting over her face and he had to command himself not to look at her mouth either. 

“It’s bad luck to ignore it you know.” At her words, his gaze snapped to her eyes. Dark, a bit of teasing, something else he couldn't quite decipher. For a second he let himself imagine pulling her into his arms and kissing her, _really_ kissing her. Deep, demanding, seeking kisses until she was as breathless as he was. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said. His voice had dropped to the basement and he could only hope it didn’t sound as choked, as desperate, as he felt. He bent forward quickly and brushed his lips over her cheek. It was warm, her skin soft. Her scent enveloped him, that unnamable fragrance that was all Gaby, and his longing for her spiked painfully. He pulled back and tried to give her a smile. “I’m going to take a shower. Thank you again for making dinner.” 

He didn’t exactly run to the bathroom, but it was a close thing. 

GABY

She watched Illya go with a catch of her breath, eyes following until he had closed the door behind him. She lifted her fingers to touch the place his lips had been, stunned. Everything inside her was a jumble of _wants_ and _didn’ts_ and _hows_ — and she cursed him for it, then herself. “Damn it.”

She heard the water kick on for the shower and bit her lip. This was not how that was supposed to go.

Her phone sounded off, the alert for a video call, and she hurried over to snap it up from the kitchen counter. Seeing the face of her caller appear on the screen she sighed, half laughed and answered. 

“Please, tell me I am interrupting something.” Napoleon Solo’s voice was tinny from her phone’s tiny speaker but still familiar and welcome, as was his handsome face. He was wearing a knit hat and scarf so she assumed he was outside, though all she could see behind him was a brick wall. 

“If you thought you would interrupt then why did you call?”

“Because this thing might finally be happening and I feel left out!”

“Well, you’re not left out because nothing is happening.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were going to say something to him.”

She glanced to the still closed bathroom door. “He’s not into it, Solo, you were imagining things. This was just a huge, foolish mistake.” She looked up with a glare at the mistletoe. The place Illya’s lips had brushed her cheek still tingled and her heart did a stupid little flipflop at the memory of that moment, how she’d held her breath, waiting for his mouth on hers. 

“Gaby, listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“You always _think_ you know what you’re talking about. Remember when you were sure we could get to the dig site for class faster with your ‘shortcut’ and instead we got lost and had to spend the night in the back of your old Subaru?”

“That was a fluke!” he insisted. Gaby rolled her eyes. “Besides that is not THIS, okay, this is different. Gaby. Illya has been in love with you since he met you, or not long after.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know it from where I’m standing.”

Solo huffed in annoyance then stopped, his face going serious. “Wait, what _did_ happen? Exactly.”

Gaby made a face, thinking over her attempt to make the dinner into a date, the failure of the mistletoe. 

“Gaby, did you _tell_ him? Did you say ‘Illya, I’m madly in love with you and want to be more than friends?’”

She made a scoffing sound and looked away. “Madly–” 

_In love_. The words echoed through her mind and rattled down into her heart. She _was_ in love with Illya. How had it even happened? Why had she been so stupid as to fall in love with her best friend? And when?! That was the part that got to her the most. She was always bad with that sort of thing—understanding her feelings. One day she’d seen him coming home from work, looking frustrated and tired and her heart had sunk. Her first thought had been to pull him into her arms, kiss him and make it better. It was then she realized that, not only was she in love with Illya but that she _had been_ for longer than she felt happy admitting. It had shaken her to her core. In fact, she had dated her last boyfriend for the singular intent of proving to herself that it wasn’t true. Unfortunately, once she saw it, she couldn’t _un_ see it so she had sent the guy packing and drunk-called Solo in the middle of the night with her confession.

“You make it sound like we’re in high school,” she continued. Solo gave her a hard look. “Fine. No, I didn’t say that in so many words but I think I made it fairly obvious.” She flicked a look at the mistletoe again. 

“Gaby, ‘fairly obvious _’_ isn’t going to work here. You need to tell him outright. Or better yet — Where is Illya now?”

She lowered her brows. “In the shower, why?”

“Take off all your clothes and go join him.”

“ _What_?” She felt herself flush hot, not from embarrassment but at the image the idea presented in her mind. All of Illya’s lean, muscular body on display, pink with the heat of the water. What if he sent her away? (What if he pulled her in?) She swallowed.

“You have to beat him over the head with it Gabs, trust me on this. He’s not going to see it. One: He’s a guy and Two: he’s been pining over you for eight years. He’s programmed himself not to see anything you do as any kind of a come on. You have to make your intentions very clear.”

Gaby couldn’t imagine that was true. Eight years? He’d never said anything? Never tried anything? _And_ he had _dated_. Not as much as she and Solo had, but still, he had gone out with plenty of girls. (She had hated all of them.) The thought of his last girlfriend in particular made her hot with jealousy and loathing. “I think you’re the one who can’t see the truth.” she returned, her chest tight. “We’re just friends, okay? All three of us and I can’t do anything to mess that up.”

Solo huffed, and she saw his very square jaw draw into a tighter line. “You think this thing between you two can’t do that anyway?” he demanded. “It’s going to come out eventually, in one form or another and I just–I want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy, and... I don’t want to lose you guys either.” She didn’t know what to say to that, and the moment stretched out into something mildly awkward. “Look, I’ll be there next week and if you two haven’t figured this out by then, expect intense matchmaking to ensue.”

The sound of the shower shutting off distracted her from rolling her eyes at him. She straightened up sharply. “He’s done, I gotta go.”

“Remember what I said. You need to be blatant about this.”

“Right,” she answered. 

“Gaby...” he sounded like he didn’t believe her. She supposed he knew her too well. 

“See you next week, Solo. Bring me something pretty.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but she rang off and stuck the phone in her back pocket. Looking down at her outfit—her brand new sweater, her most flattering jeans—she sighed. Wasted effort. Shaking her head, she went to her bedroom and replaced her nice clothes with her oldest, baggiest pajamas, the ones her foster father had given her years ago. They were faded and worn, making them soft and comfortable. The perfect thing to help sooth all her ruffled feelings. 

When the door to the bathroom opened, she was sitting at her desk with another glass of wine. She turned as Illya stepped out, and she caught sight of him crossing the hall with a towel wrapped low on his hips. His skin was damp, a few drops of water running down from the short hair at the back of his neck.

_God_ , she thought, _not only am I a lovesick idiot, I’m also really fucking horny_. 

His bedroom door closed behind him, and she took a deep breath and another swig of wine.

Did he honestly think she was unaffected by him walking around half naked like that? Didn’t he even think of her as a _woman_? Obviously she was just a friend. Solo was way off base. Illya likely thought of her as a sister, nothing more. The thought made her stomach go sour. She took another big drink. 

She needed to do something to deal with the clash of emotions tumbling around inside her but she couldn’t stop staring at Illya’s door. Why was he home on a Friday night anyway? He should be out with some girl and then she wouldn’t be confused, she would know where she stood. 

Then again, when was the last time he’d even gone on a date? Was he not over his last girlfriend or was there another reason? She chewed her lip. Solo’s insistence replayed in her mind.

“You know, you are never going to meet anybody if you stay at home and play on your computer every Friday night!” she called out, an edge creeping into her tone. Her pulse was racing, and she held her breath.

The sound of drawers slamming shut carried to her from behind his door, then it opened and he poked his head out, still shirtless. 

“It is not _playing_ , it is _programming_ ,” he insisted. “And if I finish this app, I might be able to do as you say and look for a new job.”

“Huh.” The unimpressed sound was followed by her taking another sip of wine as Illya disappeared back into his room, this time leaving the door open. Gaby leaned to the left, as if she might see in through that open door, then caught herself and sat up. “You are hopeless!” she shouted, turning back to her computer, and finished off her wine.

She hunched down in her chair feeling frustrated, sorry for herself, and just a tad-bit tipsy, and stared at the monitor of her ancient desktop as if it could provide her with a solution to the way her heart was aching. A notification popped up in the corner, drawing her attention. It was an alert from the hookup site she had used until recently. The sight sparked an idea at the back of her mind. She sat up a little straighter, self pity and fear fueling her very stubborn nature. 

“You know, you should sign up for a dating service,” she called out loudly, and immediately started typing into the search engine so she could see what was available.

“That is not happening,” he replied from the depths of his room.

Gaby ignored him and clicked on the best option, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a mischievous smirk. She started tapping away at her keys. After getting things exactly as she wanted them, she picked up her phone. 

“Ill-ya,” she singsonged and waited for him to reappear. When he did—wearing a white tee over his pajama bottoms now—she snapped his picture. He gave her a look as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. She took another quick snap. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m signing you up for a dating site, like I said.”

“Gaby,” his voice was low, a rumble of warning that made certain parts of her body go all soft and quivery like some damn romance novel. “I told you, I am not doing that.”

“Illya Kuryakin,” she said out loud as she typed. “Age: 28. Height: Too fucking tall–”

“Not happening–”

“Likes—” Gaby paused as Mishka jumped up on the desk, apparently wanting in on the fun. Gaby’s grin widened. “Petting cats and eating pussy.”

“What!?” Illya half choked, but she didn't look back at him, she _couldn’t_. “You cannot put that!” he commanded. His voice was right behind her now, making her jolt. 

“Why not?” she asked, defiant. “I heard it’s true, your last girlfriend certainly went on and on—”

His face went red, and he grabbed for the mouse. “Stop this–”

“No, you need to do something besides stay home pining for that—woman!” She fought him for the mouse, pushing against the side of his body with her shoulder.

“I am not pining for anyone!” he hissed, pushing back, jostling the chair as he leaned over her to get a better look at the screen. Their fingers tangled, hands swatting at each other, then suddenly there was a click and a swooshing sound from the computer’s speakers. They both froze, staring at the screen in horror. One of them had uploaded the profile. 

Gaby’s insides dropped _hard_. She was only trying to _tease_ him, provoke a reaction! She’d never had any intention of actually _putting it out there_! They both scrambled for the keyboard, simultaneously racing to delete the account. Illya lunged, and it sent her and her chair sprawling. He over-corrected his own balance and went down too, tripping over the legs of the chair and falling right on top of her. 

The air left Gaby’s body in a rush and it wasn’t just because of Illya’s weight. He pushed up immediately, his eyes searching her as if for injury. “Are you all right? Did I crush you?” but she was too breathless to respond. He was broad and heavy, his flat stomach hard along her thighs. He smelled like the woodsy scent of his shampoo and warm, clean man. She inhaled, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah–” she stared into his eyes, so blue and full of concern. Her heart swelled, her pulse kicking up even further. “I–I’m fine.” 

He didn’t look away, and she was caught, pinned beneath his body and his gaze. She realized she was holding her breath, afraid even that might break the spell that had been cast over them. A ding from her computer broke the moment instead, and her heart and stomach tumbled.

“Looks like you already have a potential date,” she said, her voice far too meek for her own peace of mind. 

Illya practically growled. “I do not _want_ a date. I told you, I didn’t want this!”

Swallowing, Gaby forced herself not to look at his mouth, forced herself not to think about it on some other woman. “Why not?”

He blinked, drawing back. “I–” He stumbled over a few words, then took a breath that had his chest pressing against hers. “There is already someone I want to be with.”

She didn’t think she could feel more unsettled, but the disappointment that jolted through her proved her wrong. 

“You said you weren’t pining for—”

“I’m _not_ , it is not her. It’s–” he exhaled through his nose, his eyes darted from one of hers to the other. “There is someone else.”

“ _What?_ ” It was Gaby’s turn to blink. “But... You said you hadn’t met anyone. When did this happen?”

“I–it has been awhile,” he started, his gaze moving over her face before dropping to her lips. “And I–” There was a sharp breath, a sound of frustration–then he was kissing her, his mouth determined, and everything inside her bloomed to life with hope. He pulled back, the kiss over almost as quickly as it started, and looked down at her hesitantly, eyes filled with fear and questions. 

Gaby grabbed him—fisting one hand in his white t-shirt while she looped an arm around his neck—pulling him to her as she lifted and pressed her mouth back to his. A whimper escaped from between them and she couldn’t tell if it was his or hers. She kissed him desperately, deeply, as if her life depended on it, because her _heart_ certainly did. For a split second he didn’t respond and her hope plummeted—then he let go, kissing her back, matching her enthusiasm with his own. His hands scooped her up, bringing her close, one cradling the back of her head as he angled to deepen the kiss and for a time, centuries maybe, the magic of his mouth was all she knew. The taste of him, his scent surrounding her, the warm hard weight of him holding her down. They were lost in it. Lost in it _together_. Finally; _finally_ —the only thought in her head. 

It was the dinging of her computer that drew them back to the real world. 

Gaby was breathless, her body warm and _ready_. She knew she was flushed; Illya was too. She liked the look on him. “So,” she said, her hand on his cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip. “Just to be absolutely clear, this someone else you have been pining for... is me?”

Illya huffed out a laugh, his gaze dropping to her lips a second before returning to her eyes. “Yes, it is you. It has _been_ you. For a very long time.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She knew it was the same for her, that he had been the singular, ringing constant in her life for the last eight years for a reason. She’d just been too afraid to let herself see it. Certainly she’d _wanted_ him, nearly from the moment she first saw him—all long limbs, big hands and deep voice—but they had been friends so she’d ignored it. She could admit that. Admitting when she had begun to _love_ him... that was much more complicated. 

Her computer let out another trill of notifications and she felt a rush of irritation–at the notifications and at herself for causing a mess instead of just _talking_ to him. “Looks like there are _loads_ of women wanting you to eat them out.” A touch of bitterness sneaked into her voice. 

A tinge of pink ghosted Illya’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he was firm in his response, his voice a deep grumble. “I don’t want to eat any of them out.”

“No?” Could he feel the way her heart was pounding or the way she kept her head tilted toward his, ready to kiss him again any second? He must, because he pressed his lips to hers, pulled her in, tasted her deep then took several soft sips of her mouth before pulling away again. 

“No,” he replied, stronger this time, chewing on his lip as he looked down to where their bodies pressed together. “I want to eat _you_ out.”

She gasped, a soft hiccup of sound. Arousal pulsed through her, her belly swooping in anticipation. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

She bit her lip, stared at his mouth. “When?”

He pulled away, and she felt disappointment wash over her, then he was lifting her up in his arms and she cried out at the sudden altitude. “Now,” he growled and started toward the back of the apartment.

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He knew his way to the bedrooms; he didn’t need to see. Then her stupid computer let out another series of dings and he turned around with a curse. 

“What,” Gaby asked, muzzy with the headiness of wanting him, of finally having him. 

“I will shut off the computer,” he said, burying his face in her neck instead and sucking greedily at the spot beneath her ear. Her pussy clenched, everything in her body yearning to get him closer. Then she remembered what the dings meant.

“Wait! Wait,” she wiggled out of his arms, her focus on the computer leaving her unable to see the look of bereavement that overtook his features. His frowning gaze followed her as she retrieved the mouse and kicked aside her toppled chair. “I have to delete this profile. I am not leaving it up for these greedy women to salivate over.” She set her jaw as she went through the steps required to delete a profile, growing more frustrated with each one. Illya came up behind her, fencing her in with his arms as he braced himself on the desk on either side of her body. 

“Does this have to be done now?” His breath ruffled the hair at the back of her neck just before he kissed her there. Gaby had to close her eyes to get a hold on her desire and keep from turning into a puddle. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she insisted, though the tremor in her voice gave away his affect on her. 

“Why is that?” he asked, low and rough.

“ _Because_ –” She made three more clicks, then a “Ha!” of victory as she confirmed the deletion.

“That is not an answer.” He pulled aside the collar of her pajama top and kissed the slant of her shoulder. She hummed and turned in his arms. He was close, leaning in, pinning her to her desk. She kind of liked the little hint of dominance. Looking into his eyes, she stood up, making him take a step back. 

“Because you’re mine now, Illya.”

A look of vulnerability passed over his face. “Am I?”

Gaby took hold of his shirt and pulled him down to her. “Yes.” It was an oath and a promise, and she sealed it by pressing her mouth to his. He sighed into the kiss and his arms wrapped around her, crossing behind her thighs as he lifted her up. She smiled, showing him her dimples, before taking his cheeks and kissing him again. They turned back toward the bedrooms, and this time nothing stopped them. 

Illya kicked open the door to his room. It banged against his bookshelf sending some small bit of paraphernalia to the ground but they were far too wrapped up in each other to notice. Laying her out on his bed, Illya began to kiss her in earnest, driving one hand beneath the hem of her top. His touch was cool as it ghosted over her ribs and Gaby held her breath in anticipation as his hand roamed higher, caressing the underside of her breast. Her fingers pushed into his hair as she kissed him, greedily licking into his mouth and swallowing the sounds he made. He slid his hand up to cup her breast, his thumb drawing a slow torturous circle over her nipple, making it draw up tight. She whined as the sensation went right to her cunt, and she writhed against him wanting more. Pulling her hands from his hair, she started undoing the buttons on her top but he batted them away so he could take over. 

“Get this off first,” she demanded, tugging at his shirt. “I want more of your skin.”

He huffed, ran his tongue along the swath of her skin he’d revealed, then lifted enough to pull the shirt off over his head and toss it aside. Gaby put her hands on him immediately, running them down his chest and over his toned belly. She had seen him like this before, but never with permission to touch him and enjoy the view. Biting her lip, she reached for the waist of his pajama bottoms, but he took her wrists and stretched her arms above her head, pinning them to the pillow. 

“Not yet,” he murmured. “I have things to do and if you touch me, we will end up skipping ahead.”

Her eyes were intent on his as she ran her tongue over her lower lip. “I don’t mind.” 

“I do.” He kissed her again, sweeping his tongue inside to claim her mouth while he still restrained her hands. God, there was so much of him, tall and strong. She had thought of having him many times, even before understanding she was in love with him, but she hadn’t imagined him quite like this. She liked it. 

He eventually released her, needing his hands to finish taking off her clothes. His fingers made easy work of the buttons on her top but he still took his time, exposing her skin inch by inch, kissing each portion revealed as he went along, laving at her with his hot tongue and driving her insane. Already wet with arousal, she could feel her sex, swollen and wanting. She shifted against him, ran her hands over his shoulders, his neck, his back, eager and needy as he finally freed the last button and brushed the fabric aside. His gaze trailed over her breasts, taking her in, his lower lip firmly caught between his teeth. He muttered something in Russian and bent forward, scooping up her left breast in his huge hand and closing his mouth over her nipple. 

Gaby gasped, clinging to him as his tongue worked her. A fresh surge of arousal flashed through her, and she pressed her thighs together, shifting restlessly beneath him. With a deep moan, Illya hoisted her thigh up over his side and she ground against him in search of relief. It wasn’t enough. 

He hummed and moved on to her other breast. Her eyes rolled back as she arched into it, trapped by the sensation and the way it danced along her nerves, making her pussy clench. She whimpered when he released the now swollen nipple and lifted her head to watch him kissing his way down her chest, her belly. She had almost forgotten his announcement that he wanted to eat her out and she moaned loudly at the rememberance. She was already so far gone she didn’t know if she could take anymore, but he was set on his course, stripping her of her bottoms, tossing them aside. Her panties came next, soaked as they were, rolled down her legs and off over her feet. 

He lifted her up, moved her further back on his bed so there was room for him between her thighs, kissed her hips as he parted her legs. Gaby opened for him, spreading wide to let him see all of her, see the effect his touch was having. Illya groaned, pressing his face to her inner thigh and biting her there lightly. She flinched then laughed, all her nerves on edge, every sense heightened beyond reason. 

Propping herself up, she watched as Illya ran the tip of a finger down the line of her sex, a whisper touch over her aching clitoris had her whimpering. That stalwart finger drew back up, parting her, and Illya hummed at the wetness he found. He pushed a finger inside her, watched it disappear and she gasped, her head tipping back as he made several small thrusts, drawing out more of her arousal. “You’re so wet,” he said, awed. His voice was a breathless grumble, deeper than she had ever heard it before. 

“I want you,” she admitted before she could censure herself and he groaned before lifting himself up and burying his mouth in her cunt. Gaby cried out as first his hot breath, then his hot tongue, caressed her, sweeping in, licking through her folds and swirling over her clit, his finger still buried deep inside her. She tried to watch, enraptured by the sight of him there, eyes closed as he devoured her. His groan of pleasure vibrated through her and she fell back, arching up into it, her body careening headlong into orgasm faster than she ever remembered happening before. “Oh fuck, Illya, _fuck fuck fuck,_ just like that.”

Unlike every other guy she had ever been with, Illya heeded her words and changed nothing, holding steady with his tongue, the perfect amount of pressure, his finger pulsing inside her. She gasped for breath then held it, body spinning, aching, bursting open with hot, exquisite pleasure. He followed her through the orgasm, easing off the pressure just enough to draw things out without making it uncomfortable, and she shook beneath him, her cunt quivering over his finger in waves. 

“ _Scheisse_ ,” she breathed, unclenching her fingers and then realizing she’d had them fisted in his hair. 

Illya kissed his way up her body, pausing to wipe his chin and suck his finger clean, a move that made her pussy clutch at nothing. She felt boneless but still lifted a hand to his cheek when he arrived over her, lifting to kiss him soundly and taste herself on his lips. 

“Good?” he asked quietly, his eyes studying her, sincere and hypnotic blue. She hadn’t expected to see the touch of insecurity there. Couldn’t he tell?

“No,” teased, unable to resist, but she didn’t leave him in torment. “It was–“ she laughed at herself. “Incredible.”

He breathed out a sigh and kissed her again, his hand caressing her side as he pressed himself to her. She could feel the hard length of his erection against her thigh and reached down to caress him through the cotton of his pajamas. He groaned and buried his face in her neck, holding her tighter. Wanting to feel him, really feel him, she pushed her hand inside his waistband and touched him, stroking over his hard cock, exploring his length and thickness before wrapping a hand around him and giving a squeeze. 

“Gaby,” he groaned against her throat, breathing hotly. She stroked again, and he whimpered. It sent a rush of affection and arousal through her, pleasure in echo of his, and she was torn over how to proceed, whether she would take him in her mouth, taste him, pleasure him like he had her, or take him into her body, have him fill her and be as close as she could possibly get him. He decided for her, panting into her neck then lifting up to kiss her sloppily. “I want to make love to you. I want to be inside you. Do you want–” 

Her belly flinched with need and she nodded swiftly, shifting her hand to push his pants off and out of her way. “Yes, _yes,_ I want that too.” 

Together they stripped him of his remaining clothes and Gaby finished removing her top, sending it flying out of sight, then they were triumphantly naked, making out, skin to skin. Illya’s touches grew more and more passionate, his kiss all encompassing until finally neither of them could stand to wait any longer. He fumbled in his drawer for a condom, cursing when he couldn’t find them because they had been pushed all the way to the back. Gaby giggled at the little pile of things he had to remove to find them, and he gave her a playful glare. She didn’t mind at all. He hadn’t needed them and she loved that, hated thinking about him with anyone else and enthralled that now she would be the only one. 

She was keeping him forever; she hoped he realized that. 

He came back with a box, tore it apart trying to get it open and Gaby laughed outright, drawing him into the humor of it before snatching one of the little packets up and ripping it open. He was on his knees, cock proud and hard between them and she took it in hand, watched him close his eyes at her touch. She rolled the condom down over him, licking her lips and holding back from putting her mouth on him. He scooped her up, moved her to where he wanted her, then settled hard and heavy between her legs. It was incredible and perfect to have him there and she murmured as much to him as they exchanged soft tender kisses. 

“This is not just about sex for me,” he said out of the blue, lifting up to look down at her. “I want you, yes. You are beautiful, perfect, all of you, but that isn’t all this is. I–”

“I know.” She caressed his face and looked into his eyes. “You’ve been my best friend for a long time and I—“ she swallowed. “I love you. It took me too long to figure it out.” Kissing him, firm and sure and possessive, she added, “Be my lover too?”

ILLYA

“Yes,” he breathed, those words settling inside him, sinking deep, to the part of him that was sure this was all still a dream. Gaby beneath him, her dark eyes looking up at him, her mouth swollen from his kisses, the taste of her still on his tongue. He shifted to position his cock, hard to the point of pain. She pulled one of her knees up, opened herself to him and he bit down hard on his lip to stay grounded as he set the tip of his cock at her entrance. A testing pulse had him almost choking on the pleasure, then he slid inside her. Her body, well pleased and slick from her previous orgasm, took him in, took him deep, until he couldn’t get any closer to her. The feel of her walls around him, the way she called his name and arched into his thrust was almost too much. He stilled there, breathing hard as he pulled her close. She held on, grasping him tightly. Her voice in his ear, her sweet scent– this was Gaby, his Gaby, finally in his arms and better than anything he had ever imagined. 

“Please, Illya,” she murmured, her breath hot on his skin, and it was all he could take. Exhaling in a rush, he withdrew and thrust again, making her cry out. “Yes!” 

She rolled into it, answered his hips with hers. Together they found a rhythm that moved them both, driving them on to the finish line faster than either of them wanted but neither able to reign themselves in. 

They took and gave in turns, pushed and pulled and rocked, lighting them up with blinding pleasure. Her body gripped his cock like it never wanted to let him go, it caught him like a punch in the gut. That, and the way she kept saying his name had his climax barreling forward, challenging his control. Desperate to get her there one more time, he groaned and buried his face against the side of her hair, growled out her name, then reached between them to touch her. Gaby keened as his thumb pressed to her clit. She ground against that pressure, mouth parted and he took in the sight of her, skin flushed and glistening, wet lips parted as she panted for breath. He felt her come apart in his arms, felt the pulsing grip of her cunt, the rhythm of them timed with the cries that escaped her as she arched into him. 

That was all it took to end any control he’d been hanging on to. Illya followed her into climax, his grip rough on her hips as he drove several sharp thrusts into her throbbing core, then held her there as he came, her name on his lips. 

He was heavy on top of her for several breaths then rolled over, bringing her with him. She didn’t resist, stretching out over his chest, practically purring as she buried her face in his neck, and his arms came up to support her. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in, his heart overwhelmed.

“How long?” she asked once they’d caught their breath.

“What?” His voice was thick, and he hoped she didn’t notice how close his emotions were to the edge. 

“You said it has been me for a long time,” she said. “How long?”

He held his breath as the question fully registered, and she pushed up on his chest until she could look down at him. He watched her carefully and contemplated his answer. He wasn’t ashamed of how long and fast he’d fallen in love with her, but he did worry that she might not believe him, or be angry he had kept it a secret. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, like she could read all the uncertainty he was trying to hide. Of course she could, who knew him better than Gaby? “You’re not going to scare me away.”

He bit his lip and gave a nod. “Do you remember that time at the skating rink when those two men harassed that woman, and you checked both of them into the wall.” She frowned. “One of them broke his ankle,” he continued. 

He saw remembrance dawn, and her eyes widened. “Illya that was–we had known each other for only three weeks.”

“I know,” he said sheepishly. “I will not claim it was then what it is now but,” he cupped her jaw, caressed her with his thumb. “But that was definitely the beginning. I like strong women. I love that you take no shit from anyone. I like that you fight for others even though you like to pretend you don’t care. I fell in love with you that day, I only love you more now.”

GABY

Her heart was doing all that weird wobbling again, and she tipped her face into his hand. “I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up,” she offered. “I don’t know when it started for me, I only know that when I realized that I was in love with you it had already been a long time.”

He kissed her then—so tender it made her ache. She stretched out on his chest and kissed him back, pouring all her emotion into it. Soon their kisses changed from loving to needy, tender to passionate. Hands stroking intimately, mouths exploring. Gaby got to complete her impromptu want list, taking Illya into her mouth until he begged. They made love again, a little slower, drawing it out this time. Eventually they fell asleep together in Illya’s bed, a tangle of limbs and hearts.

SOLO

Illya answered the video chat request just when Solo thought his call would go unheeded. 

“Cowboy, it is a bit late.” Illya was shirtless and in bed, but he didn’t look particularly sleepy. He _did_ look incredibly relaxed, however, and Solo let himself hope. 

“I couldn’t help it, I missed you guys.” It was true, if not exactly the reason he was calling.

Illya’s face softened. “We miss you too but you will be here in a week. Is there a need to wake everyone up?”

“You don’t look like you were sleeping,” Solo said. “I actually wanted to check on Gaby,” he explained. Determined to broach the topic carefully, maybe see if he could get Illya to take his head out long enough to see the hints Gaby was throwing. “She had some plans for tonight and I wanted to see how they went.”

Illya frowned deeply, looking troubled. “Plans? I–” then his face changed completely, and he looked up at the ceiling for several moments. “That is why there was mistletoe.” Solo saw his friend smile tenderly and look off screen.

“Why, what happened? Is she okay?” He knew he didn’t sound nearly as nonchalant as he was attempting, and the look Illya gave him verified his suspicion. 

“I have a feeling you know what happened,” he said. “How long have you known?”

“I am not admitting anything until you tell me what went down tonight,” Solo said, holding up a hand palm out. “I’m not risking her bad side. Especially when I have to come home and face it in person.”

Illya looked at him hard through the screen of his phone, then turned the camera to the side, revealing a sleeping Gaby right beside him, naked shoulders visible above the blanket. Solo grinned widely. 

“The sleep of a woman well fucked, good job Peril.”

Illya made a face, both displeased and blushing. “It is not–”

“I know,” Solo offered, saving his friend from explaining and himself from hearing the mush that was likely to come next. “I’m happy for you. Both of you. It’s about time, really.”

“When did you–”

“Find out? About you? Day one. Gaby? Well... I suspected for a while, but she just told me last week. I told her she would need to be obvious. So did she climb in the shower with you?”

Illya had a look of surprise that turned sardonic a second later. “No, she signed me up for online dating,” Illya replied with a snort. 

Solo laughed, tossing his head back. It was several moments before he could even respond. “That’s our Gaby. Why confess your feelings when you can passively aggressively get the other person to confess theirs first?”

Illya smiled at that but admonished, “Shh, you will wake her up.”

“All right, I will leave you to it then.”

They said their goodbyes and Solo rang off, missing his friends but happy they had finally figured things out. It had been a long-held fear that their unresolved feelings would end up wrecking the little trio they had made for themselves. Now, well, he had a feeling they would make it. Call it a sixth sense, whatever, he just knew it felt right. He nodded to himself and went back to preparing for his day. 

ILLYA

It still didn’t quite feel real. He looked at Gaby beside him, her mouth soft, cheeks flushed with sleep. He could still see the girl he had first met in college so many years ago. She had only gotten more beautiful. And apparently she loved him. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest at the thought and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to pull her against him. Turning in his arms, she hummed and flung hers over his neck. 

“What?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep. “Everything all right? Was that Solo?”

“Yes, it was Solo, everything is fine. He is smug because he thinks he knows everything.”

“Mmm,” she snuggled into him and he felt that much closer to believing. “We can get him back when he gets here.”

“Definitely.” He kissed her hair, breathed her in. She kissed his chest and settled again. He stroked his hand down her arm and pulled the quilt up over them both. 

“Good night, Illya,” she murmured. “Go to sleep, I promise I will still be here in the morning.”

Illya smiled, she knew him well. He kissed her temple and closed his eyes. “Okay.”

The End


End file.
